


More Than You Bargained For

by oceaxe



Series: More Than You Bargained For [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 01:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7146194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry orders an improved version of the Patented Daydream charm from a mysterious new company, he gets more than he bargained for. Much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than You Bargained For

Harry opened the door to Grimmauld Place, anticipation spiking in his stomach. He wasn't fond of this place, but it was convenient for his purposes at the moment. While he had the house to himself most of the time since Ginny had moved out, he didn’t want any of his children suddenly taking a notion to apparate home for any reason today. Whatsoever. What was about to happen was not something they needed to know about. He found the brown-wrapped parcel waiting on the foyer sideboard, where he’d instructed Kreacher to place it once it arrived.

Harry’s hand trembled slightly as he unwrapped the package from Dreams Made Real, Ltd. He had sent his pensieved fantasies by owl post weeks prior, along with the required mutually binding confidentiality contract signed in blood. DMR had only been a mysterious rumor to him up until recently, when George confirmed he had licensed his Patented Daydream Charms to an anonymous entrepreneur for a fantastic but undisclosable amount of galleons. 

When he had opened the box, he was surprised to find two edible charms along with a handwritten note. The note read:

_“Dear Client, we took the liberty of providing two charms based on your fantasies. The first corresponds with the scenarios explicit in your pensieved fantasies and with your client questionnaire. We have the utmost confidence it will comply with your expectations._

_"The second corresponds to certain implicit themes and desires running through and underneath the penseived fantasies and is perhaps more adventurous than you have been anticipating. We do aim to please, however, and have found that occasionally our clients are slightly inhibited in what they are able to ask for, only to find themselves disappointed when we adhere to the letter of the request and not the spirit. Consider it complimentary. It may interest you to know that it was made with a new form of the charm, enhancing the realism considerably. If you decide to try it, please fill out the enclosed form to provide us with much-desired feedback._

_"The password to end the charm is “Nevermore.” We deeply appreciate your patronage and remind you that your contract ensures that both you and our business concern will remain confidential.”_

Huh. Harry examined the two charms. They looked and smelled identical. He was put off by the suggestion that he might not know his own desires, but then laughed at himself. In fact, the whole reason for this experiment, and the ludicrous sums of money he’s spent on it (not to mention engaging in blood magic, a very serious lapse for the Head Auror) was to settle once and for all the question of his desires and which way they leaned. 

He and Ginny had separated for many reasons, but one of the key reasons was that Ginny had finally confronted him about their sex life. It had never bothered Harry that they were a bit rote in the sack. Surely there were more important things in life than the precise manner in which one got one’s rocks off, or the intensity and frequency with which one came. He loved Ginny, and he knew she loved him. They had an irreplaceable lifetime of memories and shared experience, not to mention three wonderful kids. But once Ginny had made the extent of her dissatisfaction known, it was impossible for Harry not to think about it, and what might have been. Sex had always been warm and sweet between them, and Harry hadn’t known that there was more to desire. It felt good enough, and they had their routine. When Ginny had wanted to “spice things up,” Harry had felt an uncharacteristic revulsion that he had tried to conceal. But he had not married a stupid woman. Things went downhill from there.

After a sexless year, Harry’s cock let him know that there were some things that needed to be sorted out. He hadn’t masturbated much since Hogwarts, possibly once or twice a month, and his fantasies during those sessions were vague and functional. But since the split with Ginny, even those fantasies had dried up and he had nothing to replace them with. 

That is, until the night that Albus had brought Scorpius Malfoy home for a sleepover, about six months ago. Or more accurately, until the morning after the sleepover, when Scorpius’ father came to retrieve him because the Potters’ floo was bunged up. Malfoy had been coolly polite, dressed intriguingly in a Muggle three-piece suit which fit exquisitely. Harry hadn’t been able to take his eyes off it, wondering when he’d started wearing such clothing and where he’d purchased it. It gave him a strange, warm feeling, and the dawning suspicion that Malfoy had really changed since the war. On one level he knew that, of course. It wasn’t like their paths hadn’t crossed since then. But it felt like he had been asleep for years and was finally waking up.

He had seen Malfoy several times since then, and each time he’d noted another detail about his appearance or demeanor, firing his curiosity and causing him several sleepless nights. He got his first erection in months simply from the memory of Malfoy’s arse in Muggle trousers and the burgeoning interest in knowing what kind of underwear he wore, if any. Once he’d beat off to Malfoy, he admitted there might be some things he hadn’t acknowledged to himself, possibly due to the atmosphere of homophobia and intolerance in his childhood circumstances. He openly stared at Muggles and wizards alike, gaining a feel for what and whom he found attractive. It soon became clear that he was far more drawn to males than females, and he suddenly felt a lot less proud of the ease with which he’d been able to remain faithful to Ginny despite witches throwing themselves at him repeatedly over the years. 

He indulged in a lot of wanking then, trying out different scenarios. He tried to educate himself about the things that men did with and to each other, and incorporate that into his fantasies. The trouble was that so much of it entailed sensations and experiences he hadn’t had. He had no way to evaluate what he might be into. He didn’t feel able to start pursuing anything with someone in real life. 

He felt like that eleven year old Muggle orphan at Diagon Alley, overwhelmed with the sights and sounds and possibilities but frightened of making a fool of himself. Of course, events then didn’t wait for Harry to feel comfortable before he had to jump in. This time around, he wanted it to happen on his terms. Unfortunately, his terms led to further celibacy. He didn’t want to pick up some random Muggle, and he couldn’t go cruising in the wizarding world for obvious reasons. Meanwhile, the prime star of his fantasies continued to be Draco Malfoy, but he couldn’t bring himself to chat up his son’s friend to get information about him, or consult the Ministry gossip mill to see if Malfoy might be open to same-sex advances. He felt paralyzed.

So when George mentioned in passing that he had made some interesting business deals lately, and that one of them heralded a huge advance in pornographic charms, Harry was all ears. 

Which brought him to this moment. Which one should he try? It really wasn’t a choice. His curiosity got the better of him- come what may, he _had_ to know how they had improved on his fantasies. Those had seemed pretty hot to him, but then he knew he lacked experience. Maybe they were laughably tame. And hell, if he didn’t like it, he could always say the password and get out. Nothing to lose.

He picked up the “complimentary” charm and made his way to the sitting room. Once he was comfortably settled on the divan, he lifted the charm to his lips and popped it in his mouth, distantly noting the slight citrusy flavor but far more focused on the butterflies ricocheting around in his guts. He swallowed and closed his eyes, heart racing. 

He waited to enter a fantasy world, but everything remained the same as far as he could tell from behind his closed eyes. He was expecting to feel woozy or dreamy, but he felt exactly the same as he had before taking the charm.

Moments passed and he opened his a eyes a crack. Hm. No change. He’d heard such good things about the company and all the rigamarole with the penseive and the security measures… seemed like this charm was a dud, though. He felt his anticipation dissolve into disappointment. What a let down. 

He heard his floo flare and the sound of footsteps. His eyes flew open - which of his kids was visiting? They never visited him here… unless it was work? Shit. The footsteps approached from the drawing room to the sitting room. He straightened on the divan, thankful that his erection had subsided when he had realized the charm wasn’t going to work. 

The door opened and in strode - Draco Malfoy. He didn’t greet Harry. He fixed him with an unreadable look and then a sultry smile slowly spread over his sharp features. His hands went to the buttons on his long, form-fitting robe and began undoing them as he maintained eye contact with Harry. His eyes glinted in the low light of the room and his smile turned predatory.

Ah. It _was_ working. Harry’s senses swam as elation and fear fought for dominance. He stood up out of sheer nerves. He was shaking.

“Nervous, Potter?” Malfoy drawled as he shrugged off his robes and laid them over the back of a chair. “Why don’t you lose the clothes? You won’t be needing them for awhile. We’re going to get right down to business.”

Harry swallowed - this already felt more “adventurous” than the fantasies he’d sent to DMR’s office. Those had been hazy, romantic scenes of sweet seduction and this… this was clearly going to be something else. But his dick wasn’t arguing with it. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and finally just jerked it over his head, struggling a little to get it past his broad shoulders. By the time he got it off, he was disheveled and breathing a little heavily, and Draco - Malfoy- was down to a sinfully tight pair of silk drawers that he was peeling off while holding Harry’s gaze like a magnet. Oh dear god. His prick was visible beneath the grey cloth and - oh, now it was just - visible. Hard. Big. 

“If you’re going to keep your trousers on, Potter, you may as well use the password right now,” Malfoy said with a frown. 

He hastily unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them to the ground, wondering if he really was ready for this. His heart was hammering and he was starting to sweat. This all felt very real. It didn’t feel like it was happening in his head, it felt immediate and extremely detailed. 

“Pants off, Potter. Let me see what you’ve got,” Malfoy leered at him. Harry looked down to see his cock tenting his pants obscenely. He got them off somehow and stood before the object of his vague but persistent fantasies, trying to convince himself that this was not really happening. It couldn’t possibly be happening. Malfoy hated him. Malfoy wasn’t - it wasn’t really happening. It was just a damned good charm. He felt his shoulders relax as his stomach lurched. He was about to fuck Malfoy. He wondered if charm-Malfoy would be forgiving of awkwardness and ineptitude. Given the level of realism, it didn’t appear likely.

“Oh Merlin, yes,” Malfoy breathed, staring at Harry’s cock and making him shift around self-consciously. “Now that is really something.” He strode forward and knelt in front of Harry, nuzzling his erection and causing it to grow perceptibly, impossibly harder. Harry’s head fell back and he gasped. A tongue flickered out to lick the crown, dipped into the slit and gathered a drop of precome. Harry made a strangled sound, head spinning with the sensation. Malfoy licked a scintillating stripe up the length of Harry’s cock and then bewilderingly stood back up. 

“That reminds me,” he said, sauntering over to his robe and fishing out his wand. “ _Afasia_ ,” he said, pointing the wand in the direction of Harry’s mouth. “You won’t be talking. Moaning, yes,” he smirked. “Groaning, sighing, grunting, keening… but no words.” 

Harry tried to ask why, but suddenly his mouth couldn’t form the word, couldn’t really remember the existence of the word. Instead, he found himself making a kind of “hmm,” sounding uncertain. This wasn’t anything he’d ever thought about or consciously wanted. 

“That’s right, Potter. I like you better when you can’t argue with me. Or fight back.” He cast Incarcerous and ropes wrapped around Harry’s lower legs and tugged him to the floor, pinning him there on his knees. Malfoy cast it again and more ropes attached themselves to his wrists, tying them loosely to the legs of the coffee table. He could move his arms but not far enough to reach behind him, or to reach his cock. 

Oh fuck. This was definitely not something that he had- well, certainly not intentionally put in the fantasies, anyway. He may have had fleeting thoughts once or twice, but anyone would be curious to know if they liked... kinky things. He had been fairly sure this wasn’t his cup of tea, but again - his cock had no complaints. None. Nor any of his autonomous responses. In fact, all his systems appeared to be saying “go” while his mind was still reeling. 

Malfoy circled around him and he felt two hands grasping his arse. “God, the view is just amazing, Potter, I wish you could see yourself. You’ve kept in shape, haven’t you?” His voice was a soft murmur but it had a rough edge of satisfaction. 

Well before Harry could even conceptualize what might be in the offing, he felt hot breath on his arsehole and he reared forward, shocked. An incoherent noise gusted out of him, and he tried to raise himself up but Malfoy put a firm hand on his back and urged him down.

“There, there, Potter, there’s nothing to get upset about. You’re going to like this, I promise.”

He could feel Malfoy repositioning himself and leaning in. His stomach clenched. 

“Ahhhh-” Oh holy shit, Malfoy’s tongue was on his hole and it felt- too intimate, too strange. Harry willed himself not to flinch away. That tongue pressed deeper, then fluttered slightly. Harry’s cock twitched, and then throbbed at the tongue made little darts into his arsehole. “Ahh- oooohhh-” he moaned, wishing he could reach his cock. He tried, but it was a no go. The tongue flickered again and he wriggled involuntarily. He heard Malfoy snicker behind him and a flash of rage flickered through him. Was this all a joke? Well, of course not- it wasn’t even happening, it was just the charm. And he was attracted to Malfoy, and the charm was supposed to mimic reality, so Malfoy was going to be a bastard. Naturally.

Malfoy reapplied himself to his task, licking and sucking all around the hole before stabbing his tongue in again, even harder. Harry’s head dropped down and he could see his prick bobbing, hard and straining towards nonexistent friction. And he could see Malfoy’s prick, too, angled down towards the floor as Malfoy crouched behind him, fucking him with his tongue mercilessly. Harry whined and growled, shocked at the noises he was making. He no longer had any desire to flinch away from this, rather the opposite- he found himself grinding back onto Malfoy’s face, and he heard a grunt of approval and felt Malfoy’s fingers tighten pleasurably on his arse cheeks, spreading him wider. His hips bucked and he keened, wanting more, wanting something - oh god, something larger than that slippery, tortuous tongue. Some distant part of his mind noted that he was indeed making all the noises Malfoy had predicted. 

No sooner had he felt the desire for something more than he got it. A whispered Lubricus and there was a finger pressing in his arse, ringing the perimeter before pushing in all the way. The burning sensation made Harry cry out, but then the finger angled up and he saw stars bursting across his field of vision. His cock ached and dear god, he wanted to touch it, wanted Malfoy to touch it, wanted it so badly. He tried to ask for it but all he was able to get out were embarrassing moans of pleasure denied.

“I know what you want, Potter,” Malfoy whispered, seductive and evil-minded. “I know, even if you don’t anymore.” Another soft Lubricus and something larger pressed against his tight rim. Harry took a deep breath, terrified and elated at the thought that Malfoy was about to enter him. Even with his limited investigation and total lack of experience he knew it was too soon, he wasn’t ready physically or mentally but here it came anyway. Here it came - ugh, oh god, fuck- it was breaching him, too fast fuck too much ah no, no way. “Nnnngh,” Harry grunted, then howled as the whole thing just… slid in.

Malfoy uttered the lubrication charm one more time and the burning eased slightly, then he began to move. _Oh god oh fuck oh fucking hell oh god fuck no oh yes yes_ , said Harry’s internal voice but what came out was a high pitched moan that should have been humiliating but wasn’t. Little, playful thrusts led to one brutal thrust that pushed him forward an inch, followed by several more angled just so to hit that sacred spot, that place of insane pleasure hidden deep within him that he hadn’t even known about until two minutes ago, that place that Malfoy clearly knew all about, yes, knew all about it and wanted to show it to Harry, wanted to show Harry just how much he needed it, needed just this, fucking in and out of him, rough and animalistic. 

Harry was now face down on the floor, with Malfoy balls deep in his arse. Malfoy circled his hips mercilessly, buried as far as he could possibly be and drew inhumanly guttural sounds from Harry, the likes of which he’d never made before or even imagined someone making. Nothing had ever felt this good, even in a fantasy. This was the most real thing he had ever experienced. His balls drew up and his vision went dark around the edges. He’d gone as far as he could, taken as much as he could and he was about to come. His eyes squeezed shut only to fly open when Malfoy suddenly withdrew. He made an indescribable noise of desperation and this time he did feel humiliation. He sternly reminded himself it wasn’t real, no matter what it felt like.

Malfoy was panting heavily. Harry craned his neck around to see what he was doing. He had ahold of his wand and Harry felt a spike of trepidation thrill through his veins. Malfoy removed the ropes that bound Harry’s knees to the floor and cast a spell to dissipate the discomfort from extended kneeling. Then he wrapped his hands around Harry’s thighs, pulling on his legs to coax them onto the floor. “Turn over, Potter,” he said in a strangled voice. His face was flushed and sweaty - it must have cost him to stop the proceedings where he did. Harry laboriously rolled to his back, twisting his arms til they were crossed at the wrist above his head. Malfoy’s eyes fixed on his cock and his expression went from shellshocked to speculative.

“I could have made you come with my cock up your arse and believe me, that would have been rewarding for both of us,” Malfoy drawled, “but I think you’ll appreciate this, too.”

He crawled over Harry’s legs, pushing them further apart as he went and settling between them. His hands placed on either side of Harry’s head, he slowly lowered his lips to Harry’s. All Harry could do was watch, mesmerized, as those perfect, cruel lips came closer and closer until they were upon him. The softest graze against his own, then a true kiss, chaste and heart wrenching. He drew back to take in Harry’s expression. 

“Oh yes, Potter. This too. We are going to do it all, the fucking and the sucking and the making out like teenagers. You need to know that you’ve been missing all this time.” 

His head bowed again and this time he kissed like he meant it, a soul kiss drawing up all the years of yearning that Harry had repressed, tongue sweeping through his mouth and meeting his own like an equal. Pure lust sizzled through Harry’s nerves along with something that he dared not name. Kissing had always been a quiet, comforting affair, not this tempest of fire and emotion that was burning him alive right now. The kisses grew frantic and sloppy. Harry couldn’t get enough of the feel of Malfoy’s lips, the incredible taste of him. Malfoy felt alive in ways that Harry couldn’t process. Had he missed out on this all these years? Inconceivable, and yet there it was.

Malfoy broke off the kiss, regret flashing across his face so quickly Harry couldn’t have proved it was there at all. He slid down Harry’s body again, chest deliberately rubbing against his cock and drawing another moan from Harry. Harry bucked up helplessly, his cock desperate for more.

“Oh dear, it looks like you did appreciate that. Have I been neglecting your better half, Potter?” he smirked, looking well pleased with himself. God, Malfoy was such a prick. If Harry could have spoken he would have demanded that Malfoy fucking touch his fucking cock already, but he kept his silence, unwilling to hear inarticulate grunting. He couldn’t help that his cock twitched hard at the words, though. Malfoy laughed and positioned his mouth directly over the head.

“You want me… here?” He looked at Potter expectantly. Harry stared at him, wondering if he was taking the piss. “Well? Yes or no, Potter?” Harry couldn’t imagine why he was insisting on consent for this, when he had basically taken his pleasure on Harry’s arse without so much as a by your leave, but he reckoned he’d better play the game if he wanted to get his dick wet in that magic mouth. And oh, he did. He nodded. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, Potter,” Malfoy smiled, almost innocently. Harry shook his head slightly. Malfoy looked down and his cock twitched again. Harry knew what Malfoy wanted. He wanted Harry to beg, without words. A fierce blush swept over his cheeks. Malfoy’s fingers crept closer to his cock, just tickling the base. Another desperate twitch. Malfoy resumed his position: mouth tantalisingly open, just about to envelop the head of Harry’s cock. Harry mewled, low and long, and thrust up. Malfoy’s hands pressed on his hips, holding him in place. His lips brushed the head. Harry made a series of pathetic, pleading sounds and it must have been convincing because he was rewarded with Malfoy taking his entire cock in his mouth, down to the root. He appeared to have no gag reflex, as he sucked up and down Harry’s shaft endlessly, building sensation on sensation until Harry knew he was about to come. 

He pulled off and Harry cried out like a hurt animal. Malfoy reached under his knees and pushed his legs up till his thighs touched his chest and then whispered some spell that had his legs locked in place. Harry’s head rolled back and forth in utter frustration - he needed to come, he had to come, why wouldn’t Malfoy let him come, it was torture. He had been inches away from the best orgasm of his life, and even though it was just a fantasy, he wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. Until he felt the fingers in his arse, and then felt Malfoy’s mouth descend once more. Oh god, the sounds he was making - but now he was shameless, he didn’t care anymore, he was made for this feeling, this was everything. Nimble, wicked fingers pumping in and out of his still-slick hole, that sinful mouth drawing his orgasm up irresistably, nothing in the world was better than this. Harry’s hips bucked madly as his cock spurted come all the way down the back of Malfoy’s throat and he screamed out his completion - “Oh fuck, Draco - oh fucking hell - I love this fuck yes yes Yes- Fuck Me- God,yes- Draco!” 

He floated on the peaceful wake of his completion for some timeless moment, but awareness of his surroundings soon returned. He was still on the floor, his legs pinned to his chest and his hands bound. Malfoy was still between his legs, looking as stunned as Harry felt. He waved his wand and Harry’s feet fell the floor, and the ropes holding his arms vanished into mist. Harry let his head fall back against the floor, wondering when the charm would end and he would come to, on the divan. Long moments passed. It was getting more and more awkward. He knew he could speak now, Malfoy had obviously canceled the spell on his voice in order to hear his orgasmic nonsense. But it was over now. He could speak. So why wasn’t he? 

Or rather, wasn’t the question - why was Malfoy still here?

“You’re wondering why I’m still here.” 

And Harry knew. He couldn’t hide his knowledge any longer- he’d known since that kiss, really. 

“DMR. You made the charms. But that wasn’t a charm.”

“I do make the charms. But what you took was not a charm, no.” Malfoy stood and moved away, to the chair where his robe laid waiting for him.

Harry sat up, covering his groin with his hands, knowing how maidenish it made him seem and not caring. He would take whatever protection he could get in this moment. 

“Why?” he asked, not able to even look in Malfoy’s direction. He wondered if this had all been in a effort to teach him some kind of lesson, along the lines of “be careful what you wish for.” He didn’t really want to find out. 

“Because I wanted you to know.” Malfoy sounded bereft, so far a cry from his earlier confidence that he seemed like another person. Harry risked a glance. He was staring at the floor.

Harry’s throat and mouth were dry. “Know what?” he croaked.

“How it felt, the first time. The time you made me forget.” He raised his eyes to meet Harry’s gaze. “The time you obviously don’t remember.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know. This was stupid. I should leave. You won’t be able to talk about this, and I actually regret that, but the contract is binding. For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry. For everything.”

“Malfoy, wait!” Harry rose to his feet as he saw that Malfoy really was heading to the drawing room, to where the Floo was. He didn’t have time to wonder how Malfoy knew the layout of this house or how he’d gotten in. Malfoy was scooping up the glimmering powder from the urn on the mantle. 

Harry grabbed his arm and forced his hand open, spilling the powder on the grate. “Tell me. Please.” 

Malfoy went slack then, seeming to lose his will. “Fine. I need a drink. Kreacher?”

Harry gaped. Kreacher appeared with a decanter of amber liquid and two glasses on a tray. He poured measures for both men, bowed and then disappeared into the wall. 

“Well, that answers how you got it in,” mumbled Harry. He took a glass and stumbled to a chair, summoning some trousers for himself. 

“Quite. Even being only half a Black makes me extremely appealing to Kreacher.” Malfoy took a seat opposite Harry and stared into his drink before lifting it to his lips and taking a long swig.

“So,” Harry started. “I was obliviated?”

“I’m getting there,” Malfoy said tensely. “Look. You must still have some memories of the months after the war?”

“Sure, I guess. I try not to think about it.” Harry took a large gulp of his own drink.

“Okay, but try.”

“Try what?”

“Try to think about it.” 

Harry felt completely disoriented. He had just had absolutely, bar none, the best sexual and possibly emotional experience of his entire life and then found out that the person who had given it to him had merely been enacting some kind of … what? Revenge? Practical joke?

“I don’t want to fucking think about it, Malfoy. I want you to tell me why you’re here, what the fuck just happened?”

Malfoy grimaced and took a deep breath. “Okay. After the war, which apparently you don’t or can’t think about, we struck up a … friendship, of sorts. Which got to be a little bit, well, flirtatious. We talked about girls and then - we talked about boys and then. We experimented a little. And then we fucked. I fucked you. You loved it. But then you had a fucking meltdown the next day and. You won’t believe this but I can prove it. You Imperiused me and forced me to Obliviate myself. You said you weren’t gay and it was a mistake and we just needed to forget it. I told you to calm the fuck down and that’s when you did it. And I assume you must have Obliviated yourself afterwards, because as time went on, I could tell that you had no memory of me. Of us. And what happened.”

“Assuming you’re telling the truth, and that’s a big if-”

“Come on, Potter, don’t play dumb with me. There’s a lot going on in that big head of yours and it’s not all pretty. You can't tell me you’ve never cast any dark spells. I know for a fact that you have.” 

Harry winced. “Fine. Whatever. How do you remember it then?”

“I still had the memory of you casting Finite on the Imperius. It took me years to connect the dots. I couldn’t leave it alone - I had no memory of two whole days and the last thing I remembered was you ending that spell. Obviously something had happened. I was in no position to ask for help, so I researched. It was good for me, gave me something to focus on. So thank you for that,” he said bitterly, face set in a wry grimace.

“So you found a way to recover the memory.”

“I became an expert on mind-control spells. Hence this enterprise.” 

Harry sat and attempted to process what Malfoy had told him. It was too much. 

“But you still haven’t said why.”

Malfoy huffed a resigned sigh. “Because you sent me those fucking fantasies, you idiot.”

Harry’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. He stared at his hands. Somehow he hadn’t put that together - if Malfoy had made the charms, Malfoy would have seen his tepid little fantasies, would know how maudlin and treacly they were. Here was the true humiliation. He covered his face with his hands.

“Don’t,” Malfoy commanded. “I did the wrong thing. I saw those and I got so fucking angry. But I shouldn’t have.” His tone shifted to something tender, a tone Harry hadn’t heard before but that sounded familiar all the same.

“Potter. Harry. I missed you, you arsehole. I wanted you. It’s that simple.”

Harry surprised himself by laughing. “Simple? War, homophobia, Imperius, Obliviate, mind-control, blood magic, Incarcerous, and… and.. Whatever the fuck that spell was that took my words away? Simple?” 

Malfoy then surprised him by smiling. “Well. It was never going to be simple, with us. Was it?” 

They sat there for a moment, a growing tension between them. But it was a tension of promise, of something shifting. Harry broke it. 

“Can you help me recover my memory?” 

Malfoy’s eyes lit up, though he tried to keep his face impassive. “I might. Yes. I will.” 

Harry smiled. “I think I’d like that.” 

Malfoy looked relieved, and better than that, hopeful. It was a very good look on him.

“So, shall we start?”

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Dracomalfoy LJ Birthday Fest. Thanks so much to the prompter, Birdsofshore, for this prompt: _Draco discovers a spell to create a version either of your own self, or of your desired partner, that will fulfill all your sexual fantasies. Only problem is, things get a bit out of hand when the fantasy!person takes charge and Draco gets a lot more than he bargained for._ I altered it (with permission!) to this: _A story wherein Harry creates a version of his desired partner (Draco) but the spell works a little too well and he ends up with a simulacra that exactly replicates Draco, who is VERY kinky and not too concerned with the finer points of consent._ And seeing as how she promised me cocktails and footrubs and chocolate if I wrote it, and seeing as how I worship the ground she walks on*, I wrote it.
> 
> *come on, not literally**
> 
> **sort of literally


End file.
